In my head...
Photo by JOHN TOWNER on Unsplash
Tempestuous,
clawing at the edges,
uncontainable.
Busting scripts open,
peering inside,
with honest curiosity.
Mind be still,
but it never will.
Cascading, crashing,
pelting, screeching,
undulating, alone.
Until it finally floats back into line...
for a little while.
Sedentary, speechless
Voiceless
Calm, vacant
Tidy, agreeable
Understandable, acceptable
Likable, tame.
Restless.
But the storm is gracious to return-
A lifeline in the sea of ambivalence,
A hand reaching down,
to wake up the soul,
stuck inside the shell.
Pulling it to the outskirts,
where adventure awaits,
where conscious thought is possible.
Out There.
Beyond the blinds
of presumptuous certainty,
of manicured platitudes
and the beastly illusion of having it all figured out, safe.
There,
in the currents
outside the walls,
that beautiful tempest
of hungry questions
and endless curiosity
awaits.
There,
in those dark, sweet pools of wonder,
Free from institutions,
Free from those insulated islands.
There outside,
a soul may find itself waiting on itself
to return again.
To think differently again.
To ponder
To weigh
To create
To imagine
That soul cries:
Here I’m alive,
Here I’m awake,
Here I attend,
Here I lay down the burdens of their expectations,
If just for a moment.
They say color in the lines.
Think on this side of the fence.
Question it this way.
Say it that way.
Don’t ask too much.
Do it like this.
Don’t be too much to handle.
Be agreeable.
But a soul can hold deep wells of longing inside.
A soul can crave-
behind its tidy garments
and shiny labels-
to be seen.
That soul can crave crashing:
through walls
through boxes
through pleasantries.
That soul can crave to claw again.
It can long to be swept up,
grasping for those wide open spaces,
grasping for that storm,
that maker of mindfulness.
Out There.
Where there’s room to breathe
and think
and ask
and be fiercely transparent.
That soul is welcome out there,
To dwell, to grow, to center,
To be.
That soul can find joy
out there in that place where there are more good questions than automated answers.
There a soul can be, once again, swept up in exhilaration.
If only
more of those souls
could shed fear
and be seen and known.
Together.
In here.